


Safety In Numbers

by flinchflower



Series: The 50kinkyways [43]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Discipline, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moresomes, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-02
Updated: 2011-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-24 05:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 42: Moresome.  Another odd prompt requiring a different take on the situation.  This time, Dean fucks up a hunt.  Warnings for parental discipline.  There is no sexual relationship between John and his sons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safety In Numbers

Dean’s got his dick in hand when a shock of cold water rushes over him, and Sam yells “Christo!” Anger washes over him, fades. The air is hot and heavy with the smell of sex, and in the dim, he can see the bodies writhing around him. Then Sam’s hauling him up and out of the room.

He staggers when his naked, sweaty body hits the chill, shock with sense riding on it’s heels. Sam shoves him in the Impala’s back seat, pitches a blanket in. Dean waits for Sam to get in, but it doesn’t happen. His head is absolutely killing him, and it’s freezing in the car.

As he shivers, the memory comes back to him. The waitress at the restaurant. Meeting her at the cafe for information on the missing couple, sitting down in the annoyingly ruffled tea room with her. Taking a few sips of the disgusting tea. Being asked by the owner if they wouldn’t mind moving to the back room, since there was a large party coming in. And the back room. He’d been overcome by a sort of dreamy lassitude, couldn’t react to the room full of lover’s couches, with all the fucking threesomes on it, with the stage, where men were lined up, masturbating. Along with him, until Sam doused him with the frigid holy water. Fuck.

There’s a bright flash from inside the window, and Sam comes out in the stream of screaming customers. His brother climbs calmly in the car, puts it in gear. Dean leans forward to ask a question, and Sam glances in the rearview.

“Not one single fucking word,” he hisses before Dean can speak.

Sam bundles Dean out at the motel, ignoring his brother’s flinching barefoot walk through the slush. The door opens on the last sight Dean wanted to see - his father.

“Sam? His clothes?”

“In the trunk.”

That rouses Dean. “You asshole, you had my clothes, why didn’t you-“

He’s quickly cut off by John advancing on him.

“Shower. Now. Use this. You wash less than three times, or spend anything less than a half an hour, I’ll wash you myself.” Dean’s handed a bar of Fels Naptha. He hesitates, then slips sideways as John reaches for him and makes a beeline for the shower.

After Dean’s ensconced under the hot water, John turns to his youngest son, arms folded.

“He went out on his own?”

“Yep. Told him I wanted more info before we went to meet the chick, but he wasn’t having any of it.”

“I see,” said John. “What did you find?”

“What I expected, when I finished the research – I went right out to get him. Had him onstage, jacking off, so I don’t think anyone touched him, other than with the massage oil –the patrons were choosing their marks from the stage. After I pulled him out, I picked the lock on the emergency exit, walked a circle around the moreth with holy water, salted and tossed in the hyssop. She went up in a flash, everyone came to. And here we are.”

John regards his son. Sam is beyond annoyed, and it’s interesting for John to have the annoyance directed at someone other than himself for once. He sighs.

“Well, good job, Sam. Guess I should ask, you want to take care of the problem here, or should I?”

Sam pauses, then turns a wicked grin towards his father. “You don’t need to ask, Dad. But if you wouldn’t mind…” he says politely, “I’d be honored if you’d take care of it.”

John nearly chokes. Instead, he clears his throat, looks his boy in the eyes. “You boys have a partnership, that’s important, son.”

“We’ve already argued about it. I don’t think I have anything more I want to say to him on the issue, Dad. He’ll think twice for months, before he argues with me about something like that again.”

John smiles grimly. “He’ll be thinking more than twice by the time I’m through with him.” Sam winces inadvertently, and it wrings another smile out of John. Sam shifts restlessly.

“You staying with us tonight?”

“Like to.”

“Sleep with me tonight?” John’s face is a picture. Sam hastens to explain. “I don’t want him, ah, distracting himself after you talk to him - want him to think about me not being there.” John relaxes.

“No problem. You healed from the last hunt?”

“Nosir. Still have some stitches in – on my back, mostly.”

“You pop any tonight?

Sam shakes his head. “No. Didn’t have any trouble tonight – wouldn’t have to risk any, if he’d listened.”

John chuckles. “Let me take a look, after I take care of your brother.”

“Sure. Maybe you can take ‘em out. Um. You want me to find somewhere to be,” he asked as the sound of the shower ceases. John glances at his watch. Twenty minutes.

“No, Sam, this time I think you need to be here. I’m gonna go make good on my promise.”

Sam hears a couple swats, Dean protesting, then the sound of the water running again. He just makes out the tone of John’s lecturing, and settles in on the second bed with his laptop. Ten minutes later, the two men emerge, Dean hella embarrassed and bright pink from the scrubbing John’s given him to remove the oil.

John doesn’t let go of the boy, just tows him to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it, and pats his lap. Dean quivers. Sam raises an eyebrow at the pleading look he receives. And then Dean’s over his father’s lap, bare-assed and squirming. John lectures as he spanks, and every so often when Dean throws his head back, grimacing and trying not to yell as John lights a fire on his behind, Sam’s smirking at some of their dad’s words. John let him up after about ten minutes, stuffing him into a set of worn scrubs, and tucks his oldest boy in, brushing away the tears of pain and humiliation. He speaks quietly to him for a while, then fetches out the first aid kit.

“Sam,” he says quietly. “Let me take a look, son.”

Sam nods, shutting down the laptop, and strips off his shirt. John represses a smile at the immediate compliance – Sam set out to make a point, and the look on Dean’s face indicates that it’s being made quite well. The wounds are healing nicely, and he has Sam lay down so he can gently clean them.

“Sam, I’d leave most of these for another few days. There’s a few that look to be ready, though, if you want me to take the stitches out.”

“Which?”

John touched gently, and Sam shakes his head. “Nah. That one doesn’t bother me. Might as well leave it until the others come out.”

“Sounds good. Here.” He hands the boy a soft, clean sweatshirt. It’s one of his, and he's remembering that when Sam was young, the boy used to pilfer John's shirts to sleep in. Sam’s fingers stroke the soft material for a moment, before he gives his dad a shy smile and puts it on. Dean’s face is a study in regret, and John quietly suggests that Sam lay down and try to get some rest. He does so, turning his back on his brother, and John watches his baby fall asleep, something he hasn’t done in a while, brushes the long hair out of his eyes. He sits back, gets into his book. He gets through a chapter, and there’s a choking noise from the other bed. He looks over, and Dean’s in tears.

“What is it, Dean?”

“Dad…” He isn’t able to choke out much more than that, and John is reminded for the first time in years that his oldest son is tough, but sensitive.

“Come on over here, Dean.”

The boy scrambles, looking like a teenager again, all awkward limbs and worried expression. John lets him into the bed on the side opposite Sam, though he can see that Dean wants the comfort of his brother. He hugs his oldest boy to him, thankful for the contact, the quiet moment.

“You messed up, bud,” he says quietly, and Dean nods, turns into John’s shoulder. “You boys go the route you’re going, you gotta remember you’re partners, ok? Don’t let the dom thing go to your head, if that was the problem.” He’s reassured by the shaking of Dean’s head, negative. “Good. Now relax, you need to get some sleep. Sam’s out already.” His boy nods and tightens an arm around John. It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep, either, and John lays back himself, curiously content. He’s got his boys, they’re all safe, and there’s safety in numbers.


End file.
